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“We’re just having pre-dinner cocktails.” Sharon guided me into their “informal living room,” and suddenly, I was seventeen again—in my bloodstained prom dress, shell-shocked, stumbling around the opulent surroundings, being comforted by the second family who thought I was going insane.

There had been endless mugs of tea, whispers about doctors, concerned looks. The feeling of youth and loss and terror clung to my skin like the scent of white roses cluttered in a vase in the middle of the coffee table.

“Hadley!” Gerald announced, getting up from the sofa. He had on a collared shirt, leather belt, jeans. All of it looked high-priced, just like all the furnishings in the casual living room. Deep leather sofas, wet bar, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, crystal vases, and art that likely cost as much as a brand-new Kia.

“Fix you a drink?” He held up his glass.

“Oh, definitely,” I replied. “Old Fashioned. No syrup. No bitters.”

He smirked. “So just whiskey?”

I nodded. “With an orange peel. And ice.”

“She even brought her own whiskey,” Sharon declared, handing her husband the bottle.

He observed it with an impressed nod.

“The last time I was here, I wasn’t old enough to drink, hence me stealing most of yours. Figured it was only polite.” I motioned to the bottle.

He chuckled. “I think we need more than one bottle to make up for all that you drank, but it’s a start.” He turned to the bar to fix my drink.

“I’m going to check on dinner.” Sharon clasped my shoulder. “I’ll leave you kids to talk.”

She wiggled her fingers at her son and the blonde woman beside him, who looked like she belonged in a J.Crew ad. She was wearing a pastel dress with a sweater draped around her shoulders. I hadn’t thought people did that in real life. She was also glaring daggers at me. Which was odd; usually people waited until they met me to hate me.

“Haddie.” Colton walked forward to kiss my cheek. The gesture was both formal and intimate at the same time. Uncomfortable. His cologne was pleasing, again mixed with soap, lips brushing my cheek in a spark of electricity.

My teeth gnashed together as he seemed unable to let go of my old nickname, despite knowing I didn’t like it.

He inhaled audibly, leaning back but not far enough, his brows knitted together. “Did you get new perfume?”

“I don’t wear perfume.” I stared at him, weirded out by the question and him obviously … sniffing me. His expression told me he wasn’t a fan of the way I smelled. Rude. I’d showered. Used soap. Even body lotion.

“Huh,” he muttered.

I scowled at him. “Huh is right.”

A delicate, feminine cough sounded from behind us. Sweater girl. I’d already forgotten she was there, about as memorable as wallpaper.

Colton shook himself, stepping back. “Haddie, this is Angela, my fiancée.”

The sweater woman, Angela, snaked her arm around Colton’s waist possessively, smiling thinly at me as she offered a limp hand for me to shake.

I squeezed it a little harder than necessary when she looked me up and down with an upturned nose.

The flare in her eyes, both pain and irritation, was welcome to me.

“I’m sure Colton has told you all about her.” Gerald entered the conversation with a jovial tone, handing me my drink.

I sipped it, thankful for the booze, certain I was going to need it. You couldn’t tell the host of a dinner to leave the bottle, could you?

“Oh, all about her.” I gave Colton a pointed look. “I mean, he’s barely shut up about his fiancée.” Though my tone was sardonic, I was surprised at the very real and hot flame of fury building at the base of my spine. Colton had been so high and mighty, free with the smoldering looks, sexual tension, and guilt trip, yet there he was, an engaged man.

He had the grace to look a little embarrassed, glancing from me to Angela, who was clearly hating every moment of this.

“I know all about you too, Hadley,” she stated, although no one had actually addressed her. Her voice was high, nasally with a forced softness that I knew had to hurt. “You’re kind of famous around here.” She paused to sip what I was sure was a chardonnay. “Or you were.” She smiled with venom. “Now you’re back. It’s caused quite a stir.”

I’d bet my left tit she was friends with Sarah. And that plenty of bottles of dry, boring white wine had been consumed over conversations about little old me.